


give me love - phan songfic

by loki_fanboy420



Series: Dan & Phil/Phan [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Dan Howell Has Cancer, Dan Howell Needs A Hug, M/M, Phil Lester Needs a Hug, Sad Ending, this is literally just sad with a sad ending, this is so sad oml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_fanboy420/pseuds/loki_fanboy420
Summary: "give a little time to me or burn this out, we'll play hide and seek to turn this around"-oneshot songfic, lowercase intended, complete





	give me love - phan songfic

**Author's Note:**

> this is so depressing tbh, i wasn't even sure what i wrote until i went back to edit/proof read. i just kinda typed until i reached some semblance of a plot and beginning/middle/end. there's way too much of me being fake deep and over analyzing death and the universe and shit. read at your own risk.

"you're beautiful as fuck," i said tracing my fingers across his cheekbones.  
he giggled and blushed, smiling down at me.

"i love you," i continued, brushing my thumb across the bridge of his nose, "so much," smoothing back a loose strand of hair, i brought his face down to my level to press my lips against his, "so, so much," i whispered into his mouth, closing my eyes.

phil pulled away first, tears in his eyes, "i love you too, more than anything."  
i studied his face, soaking in every detail i could. his dark hair, slight stubble, perfectly carved cheeks, blue eyes, everything. i wanted to know his face front and back, be able to recreate it from memory on paper or marble, or describe it to a police artist and get a photographic drawing back.

the first tear fell from his eye, tracing it's way down his cheek  and onto his chin, where it dripped onto his jumper. he gently picked up my hand and pressed the wedding ring against his lips.

"it's okay, phil. really, i'll be okay,"

"no you won't," phil choked out, "how can you be okay if you're dying?"

"sweetheart..." i drifted off, sighing.

he sat and stared at me with sad, puppy dog eyes. i stared back, wishing i could change this, change everything, go back in time to when everything was okay and we were happy.

"i'm sorry," i looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"please don't be," he replied, gripping my hand tighter.

i shifted around, trying to make myself comfortable in the hospital bed. every breath hurt, like someone kept taking a knife to my throat every time my chest expanded, but i guess that's just a side effect of having terminal lung cancer.

"promise me you'll move on after i'm gone," i turned back to face him and squeezed his hand, "promise me you won't take your own life away,"

"i-i can't," the tears started falling down his face faster, "i can't, can't promi-"

"yes, yes you can, please,"

phil looked mortified, like i had asked him to murder me personally.

"phil,"

"okay, i-i promise," he brought his free hand to my cheek, stroking it gently, "i wish it didn't have to be this way,"

"me too,"

"phil?"

"yeah?"

i felt myself slipping off the edge of reality, and i heard it spill out into my voice, "i love you,"

"dan, please hold on, just a little, little longer. i-i know it's selfish, but, but  _please_ ," i could hear the panic in his voice, feel it as his hand nearly crushed mine.

"kiss me," and he did.

he kissed me like it was the only thing  keeping him alive, the only thing he could do. he kissed me like i was the first raindrops in the desert after a decade of drought, like i was a five-course meal placed in front of a starving man. he kissed me like he was dying, like i was dying, because i was.

i inhaled his love like it was a precious drug that could cure me. i tangled my weak, shaking,  _dying_ , fingers into his hair and kept them there. phil cradled my face with both his hands, holding it like it was a delicate piece of china that would break if held the wrong way.

at one point we weren't even kissing proper anymore, just pressing our lips together and breathing each other in. nothing was real anymore and my head was spinning nauseously, teetering over a terrifying darkness, a huge chasm waiting to swallow my life-force whole. but maybe if i just held onto phil a little longer it would go away, leave me be, let me live past 30. maybe phil could be my knight in shining armor again, like he was all those years ago when we met and he chased away my demons and insecurities.

"i love you," i said for the millionth time, "i love you," i chanted it like a mantra, and phil let me. soon though, my chanting became slurred, all my words folding into each and becoming incomprehensible, just pointless babbling. but phil didn't stop me, he just held me and wet my cheeks with his tears.

reality doesn't exist and i'm now i'm babbling nothingness to my husband as he holds me as i wait for the grim reaper to take me away from him. my eyes started to slip shut and i tried to fight it, fight it with every once of power left in me, fight it so i can have just a little more time with the love of my life. but eventually everything meets it's end and everyone has a last goodbye and sooner or later the sun's going to explode and destroy everything, so maybe it doesn't matter if you say that last goodbye or give a last goodnight-kiss or that you say 'i love you' until you run your throat raw, because we're all just specks of dust and conciseness in a vast empty nothingness, and maybe nothing matters, but right now everything matters, because right now the apocalypse hasn't come and the sun hasn't exploded and i'm stuck in a hospital room, being held by my husband and my entire life depends on a machine that i had begged to be shut off because i couldn't stand the pain of living anymore, but now i was having second thoughts and maybe life was worth living, even if it's for nothing, and maybe i don't want to die, maybe the stabbing pain in my throat with every breath and the chemo and the tasteless meds and hospital food is worth seeing phil's smile and hearing his laugh and oh god, oh fuck, i don't want to die.

"phil," i panicked, hoping i could get the words out clear, "i don't want to die, i don't want to die, I Don't Want To Die," i swear i practically screamed the last few words as i regretted everything and struggled to hold on,

"dan, it's too late,"

"phil, please, do something, anything,"

"i'm sorry dan..."

i cried.

i cried harder than i've ever cried before.

phil had somehow gotten me into a cradling position without me noticing, the kind of way you'd hold a toddler or young child.

"i'm so sorry,"  i heard him whisper into my hair, and he started to hum a lullaby, one i'd never heard before. it sounded beautiful and tragic and made me wish i could hear him sing it to a baby,  _our_  baby, in a different world maybe. not this one, not one where people die on the daily for pointless reasons.

i finally gave up, letting my eyes fall shut against the soft material of his shirt.

i counted,

1

2

3

4...

i got to 136 before i slipped out of conciseness, phil's voice lulling me to sleep, to death.


End file.
